


seems like just yesterday

by AkitaFallow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode 26, Families of Choice, Gen, Major Spoilers, Making peace, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkitaFallow/pseuds/AkitaFallow
Summary: He knew it would happen someday.





	seems like just yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of Feelings after episode 26 so this was written while I was unable to sleep because of it.
> 
> Unedited, unproofread, MAJOR spoilers for episode 26
> 
> ("Akita, why are you writing fanfiction at three in the morning when you work at nine?"  
>  _Because my heart is dead_ )
> 
> Title comes from "Fireflies" by Amanda Falk. Don't listen unless you want to bathe in more tears.

He knows what's happening the moment he feels the burning through his blood and his vision starts to fade.  
  
He's been used to it for a while, ever since he accidentally discovered the strange power that lurked within him, pumping through his veins and masquerading as the same kind of blood anyone else carried. The surge of warmth, the near-buzzing under his skin, the sweet burn of it all.  
  
He knew it would happen someday, and that it would probably happen just like this. The power is double edged ( _ha!_ ) and there's never a good story without some kind of consequences. Stands to reason, doesn't it?  
  
The burning gives way to an icy cold that runs from the tips of his fingers and spreads throughout his body. He probably hits the ground; everything's gone grey and unclear. The darkness creeps up and swallows his vision as the coldness floods in.  
  
He remembers being cold. Not a lot; he runs cold normally, and the circus never really went to the _really_ snowy areas. But... the ground was cold. Hard and cold and dark. Empty. _Empty_.  
  
Just like now.  
  
But... no. There was light once, right? Sunlight, touching his skin, warming his face and hands and leaving little sparkling dewdrops across the grass. A caravan of carts and bright fabrics and laughing people, people he knows. People who know _him._  
  
_Mollymauk. Molly to my friends._  
  
A strong hand clasping his and laughter. A lithe elven grip on his shoulder and an accented voice. Scratchy words from the mouth of a babe.  
  
Mismatched eyes and a shy, awkward smile.  
  
There's a moment where the vision fades abruptly, where the world suddenly comes back to screaming life and heat flows from his chest from an impact. He tries to breathe, gasping, before he's pulled back under again.  
  
_Drowning..._  
  
_Is this what it feels like to die? Alone?_  
  
A hand clasps his, calloused in the way that only comes from working on a ship. There's a high giggle behind him and the swish of skirts.  
  
" _Mollyyyyyy_ ," she whines, boisterous and cheerful. " _Don't be mopey like Caleb!_ "  
  
He feels the press of fur along the back of his neck, a rumbling purr starting up under his ear. There's the scratching of a pen on paper and the smell of old books. At his feet he hears the jingle of coins and the cool prick of claws through the fabric of his pants. Someone's laughing to his right, loud and just this side of obnoxious, the sound of clinking beer mugs on hard tables and a cheerful " _fuck you!_ "  
  
The soft press of fingers against his cheek, a gentle breath of a laugh, and a feather-light kiss against his forehead.  
  
" _You are never alone, Molly,_ " she says firmly in that careful voice that so belies her stature. " _I won't let you be_."  
  
He can't see anything but darkness, and yet the light fills him enough that he catches his breath, pressed in on all sides by the presences that have become so _familiar_ so very quickly. They surround him like a cocoon, pressing in and warming him in a way that the cold running through his veins can't touch.  
  
Like a slow tide the dark fades up to grey, and there's a crack in the veneer as one of his eyes opens. The grinning face that greets him is warped and sickly, and he can't seem to make his eyes focus. Everything is bright and cottony and soft.  
  
_Any last words?_  
  
He spends a second's eternity wondering what he might say, what might _define_ him. He's done so many things--danced beneath rainbow explosions in the sky, seen the light of joy in a customer's eyes, created wonders in front of audiences. He's run cons, traded with fools and with savvy criminals, killed more than his fair share of monsters. He's been raised in a family of thieves and liars and the most honest folk he's ever met, lost them all in a single night. Lost himself.  
  
Found himself again. Found a family of thieves and liars all over again. Of honest, good people.  
  
And he's _saved people_.  
  
He's dying in order to _save people_.  
  
He never thought it was supposed to be this peaceful.  
  
With the last bit of air he has, he manages to give the bastard who's killed him the only response he deserves, and feels the vague but _deep_ satisfaction as he hits his mark.  
  
Two years. Two years, packed with more than some people could ask for in a lifetime. Two _families_.

Not so bad, for someone who clawed their way out of their own grave and gave it the finger on the way up.

 _I am satisfied, Mollymauk Tealeaf_.  
  
He doesn't feel the final twist, doesn't flinch in the slightest as the last breath leaves his body. His vision is filled with the patterns of the clouds above, a hint of blue peeking through here and there, the rushing in his ears drowning everything else.  
  
And then his world fades to nothing.


End file.
